


Power of Attorney

by GealachGirl



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Loyalty, M/M, Protective Foggy Nelson, References to kidnapping, References to past trauma, Sharing a Bed, Unconsciousness, a helluva lot of love and devotion, hand-wavy neuroscience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-27 08:17:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18192068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GealachGirl/pseuds/GealachGirl
Summary: When he can't do it himself, Matt trusts Foggy to make the decisions that are in his best interest. Including the medical ones.Foggy takes that responsibility seriously.





	Power of Attorney

“Foggy, be reasonable.”

He’d been hearing it for a solid fifteen minutes already and he was sick of it.

“You’re supposed to be the one who makes good decisions.”

That one stung a little.

“He needs more treatment than a first aid kit can provide.”

And wasn’t that the truth? But Foggy knew what he was doing.

“Stop.” All of the buzzing, tittering, and arguing of Matt’s various friends and allies quieted. Foggy had broken out the cross-examination voice and he knew how to use it. He took a deep breath before he continued.

“Matt granted me power of attorney and included the power to make medical decisions on his behalf,” he said. “That means he trusts me to make decisions in his best interest. This, staying here, is in his best interest.” Foggy’s next breath was shakier, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

Dammit Matt.

On a fundamental level, he agreed with Claire and Luke and Tony Stark. Any other time he would be on board with taking Matt to a hospital, or letting Stark take him to the Avengers Tower. But they didn’t know what they were facing here.

“Nelson, we have a crack team, he’d be in good hands,” Stark pointed out again. “We have the highest-grade medical technology and facilities in the country. And, we’ll keep his identity under wraps.”

“No. He needs to stay here. You can bring your people and equipment over, but you have to do it with him in his bed. And I’m not leaving his side,” Foggy retorted. “Claire, it might help if you stuck around and were at least in the room, too.” He read their expressions, saw they were going to try to argue again and he felt a wave of heat rush through him.

“None of you have seen him like this. None of you know what you’re dealing with here. I do. I roomed with him for years, I’ve seen his nightmares.” Distantly, he marveled at the steel in his own voice and the way it made everyone pay attention. “This isn’t exactly the same, but it’s the closest anyone has. Everything needs to be as familiar as possible when he wakes up and probably for his subconscious, too. _That_ is in his best interest right now.”

He looked at Stark. “I know you can do it.”

It wasn’t quite a challenge, but the glint in Stark’s eyes told him he’d taken it that way and that worked for Foggy.

 

He still felt sick to his stomach.

Foggy had known a lot about the tragic story of Matthew Michael Murdock. Even before the Daredevil reveal and the enhanced senses, Foggy had read about the little boy, the same age as him, who’d been blinded when he pushed a stranger out of the way of a truck.

Jack Murdock had been a neighborhood legend; his death, and the mention of an orphaned son, had made the newspapers, too.

And then in college, he’d observed the result of those two stories and an orphanage upbringing. He’d taken that result home to be inducted into the Nelson clan.

Years later, he’d learned about Matt’s fiery world of sensory input. He’d learned about a mentor who’d taught, abused and abandoned his best friend in the world. Later, in more snippets and reading between the lines than a full explanation, he’d learned about the darker edges of Matt’s college girlfriend.

Even later, he’d learned about suicide attempts and got a better look at how deeply lonely and self-sacrificing he was.

Foggy had known all about the tapestry of loss and tragedy that made up his best friend’s life.

Then they’d been captured, not even as Foggy and Daredevil but as Nelson & Murdock, attorneys at law, and he’d realized knowing wasn’t enough.

“Okay Nelson, help us out here,” Stark said.

“Use the lightest sedative you can, something that’ll keep him out, but not too deep down, and won’t have a lot of side effects,” he said. Stark’s crack team looked skeptical and mildly horrified by the idea. “Claire, you’ve treated him before. You know,” he implored, shooting his gaze over to her.

She’d scrubbed up to join Stark’s team and she didn’t look thrilled to be doing it. But she cared, and that’s what had her sighing.

“Medication messes with his senses, and disorients him too much.” She rattled off the name of whatever drug she thought they should give Matt, and the others got on board.

Foggy was in the corner of Matt’s bedroom, as out of the way as possible while still being physically close. Claire had already treated the gash on his head and looked over some of the darker bruises he’d gotten. But now Matt was at center stage again.

He was pale and small in his bed, and dark purple and black bruises were blooming on his face, his torso, his arms. The split skin over his left eye had stopped bleeding, but it looked like it could start again at any time. Same for his lip. Foggy still couldn’t tell what had happened to his nose. But the angry red marks around his wrists and chest stood out stark, different from the other wounds.

Foggy would never get the sound of Matt fighting the restraints out of his head. Or the sick crunch of the head guy’s cheek and nose breaking against Matt’s skull.

The crack team, plus Claire, got to work.

 

Putting Matt back together physically didn’t take as long as Foggy expected. It was the almost-coma that gave them pause, but he wasn’t surprised by that.

Matt had always been a stubborn asshole, and who the fuck knew what the side effects were of that horror show of a drug. Foggy had seen movies, he wouldn’t be surprised if Matt was literally fighting his own demons in his head.

Claire said the trauma was probably just too much and his brain had shut down rather than deal with more of it. The exhaustion just helped.

“So, what the hell was that?” Jones asked. She’d returned from the crime scene and was now stealing Matt’s whiskey.

“The worst seven hours of my life,” Foggy replied, finishing his own glass and reaching for the bottle. In his case it wasn’t stealing because he was Matt’s best friend and at least some of it was meant for him anyway.

They’d only pulled him out of the bedroom because the crack team swore there was no way Matt would wake up under their latest probe into his mental space. And even though Foggy had argued that he didn’t care and was staying anyway, Luke Cage was a lot fucking stronger than him in the end.

Foggy suspected he was the one who had summoned Jessica Jones.

When the mixed team of Avengers and Defenders had finally stormed the old warehouse, Foggy had been nearly too worn out to care they were being saved. Luke had untied him first, and Foggy had immediately gone to Matt’s side.

But a Matt who was so far gone in his rage and grief and trauma that it was really the devil being held down in that chair. He’d stilled against the restraints, his head tipping to the side, right before the powered people had burst through the door, and Foggy had watched the transition in real time.

Stuck between two impossible choices, Foggy had let the devil go.

He told himself it was in Matt’s best interest. Stark had told him he could alter memories if necessary.

Jones was glowering at him, but he didn’t take it personally. Resting glower face was kind of her thing. “Not what I meant, Nelson.”

“It was the lawyer thing, not the crimefighting thing.” Foggy knew there was a Law & Order joke in there, but he wasn’t in the mood to find it. “The guys were connected to a bigger crime boss who’s in charge of another business in Hell’s Kitchen that’s stiffing and intimidating a whole block. We’ve been working with some of the residents.”

She narrowed her eyes. “And let me guess, you’re not in the same state he is because he’s a self-sacrificing dumbass.”

“You’re incredibly perceptive,” Foggy said, tipping his glass toward her. “Matt kept most of the attention on himself after we got roughed up a little.” It had been impressive taunting, just personal enough to make them forget about Foggy and the fact that Matt was blind. Foggy had let him run with it because Matt hadn’t been able to punch anyone as an outlet.

“And it wasn’t Daredevil-related.”

Foggy let out a humorless laugh. “Nope, they were just lucky. They thought they’d gotten test subjects and decided he should go first.”

And what a fucking trial run.

“He didn’t have a chance to fight back.” Foggy still wasn’t sure he would have, had they not both been tied down so well.

Jones grimaced and threw back the rest of her whiskey. Her jaw didn’t unclench. Foggy looked back at the bedroom door.

 

When the door opened, Foggy didn’t quite rush in, but he did move quickly to the doorway and peer inside. Matt looked better in that he had bandages around his wounds, but he was still bruised to hell and unconscious.

“The others are going back to the Tower to run tests and theories on what’s going on in his head,” Claire told him, gesturing at the crack team filing out of the room. “But he’s fine otherwise. There was more bleeding than we thought and some hairline fractures, but he’s been in worse shape before.”

“The coma thing?” Foggy kept most of the fear out of his voice.

“It’s not a coma,” Claire sighed. “He’s just unconscious and from his brain waves they said it seems like he’s in a dream state. They got a blood sample so if it’s the drug you told us about, they’ll be able to tell. Stark does have a good lab.”

“Great. And is he…?” Foggy glanced at Matt. His forehead was furrowed, and the lines around his mouth stood out. The dreaming wasn’t pleasant, and Foggy felt sick again because he had first-hand knowledge of Matt’s unpleasant dreams and, now, what might be inspiring them. He edged into the room and toward the bed before he realized it. Then he caught himself.

“He should be fine, Foggy.” Despite everything, there was an amused, tired smile on her face when she looked at him. “You’re not going to break him, and you could use some rest, too. It was a long day for both of you.”

He smiled weakly and Claire promised to get everyone to leave them alone for a few hours, even if the others didn’t outright leave. Luke and Jess would probably stick around. Danny might show up. Then she wished him a good sleep and closed the door.

Suddenly exhausted, Foggy sank to the mattress beside his best friend, who still looked troubled and tortured. Though it could be a lot worse.

“You’re killing me, Matty,” he said softly, reaching out to smooth some of Matt’s hair down. He shifted so he could lie down and take the other side of the bed. “It’s okay though, you’re worth it.”

 

Foggy woke up to a spot of warmth pressed along his spine. Without moving too much, he glanced over his shoulder to see the back of Matt’s fluffy head. His body moved against Foggy’s as he breathed, and it was comfortingly steady.  

He lifted himself on his elbow to see Matt curled up with his arms folded against his chest and his head tucked into his shoulders the way he’d sometimes slept in college. It didn’t look comfortable and Foggy knew it as his ‘rough time’ posture, but the wrinkles were gone from his forehead and his teeth weren’t grinding together. Even the tension in his body had eased.

The light outside the window had changed, but not by much so he guessed he hadn’t been asleep for long. Matt’s clock was on the other side of the bed, and Foggy didn’t want to risk waking him up to reach for it or to make it announce the time.

Foggy sighed and rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling. Something in him still felt weak and shaky.

The worst part of it all, Foggy reflected, was that he’d known about the demons in Matt’s past, but that still hadn’t prepared him for seeing them.

He still wasn’t clear on how the drug worked. The kidnappers had said something about “returning to the bad days,” but Foggy had been a little too concerned by Matt being injected with a sketchy drug in an abandoned warehouse while tied to a chair. And then, they’d slipped a headset over his face and then, through a projection that came from the front of it, they were _all_ reliving Matt’s bad days.

It had started bright and sunny, and Foggy had wondered briefly if somehow Matt still thought in visuals, or if it was the drug.

But then he’d seen a distracted man in the street and a truck coming down the road, and Foggy’s heart had dropped out of his chest. A few moments later, after a terrifying blast of color, the world started fading into black and sound rushed in.

In his chair, Matt’s jaw had been so tight Foggy thought it might crack, and his chest heaved in barely controlled breaths. Foggy had known it was only starting and the dread had weighed heavy in his stomach.

As much as he’d ever wished to know more about Matt’s life before Columbia, Foggy had never wanted it at Matt’s expense. But as Matt’s trauma continued to play out from the projector that came from the headset and Matt had started trembling and truly fighting against his restraints, Foggy decided the least he could do was bear witness.

Beside him again now, Matt shifted in the bed and Foggy braced himself, only to breathe in relief when Matt simply turned over and molded his body around Foggy’s side.

It put his ear near Foggy’s neck and Matt let out a little sigh as he relaxed even further.

“There you go, buddy,” he murmured, shifting so his body fit even closer against Matt’s.

 

Foggy woke up again, a lot later this time, and he could hear voices on the other side of the door. He rarely wished for Matt’s powers, but he knew the voices were talking about them. His ears were burning.

Matt had migrated a few inches away, but he was still turned to face Foggy. And he was still dead to the world. Foggy shuddered before he could continue down that path, and gently got up and positioned himself near the door.

He was loath to leave Matt alone in the bed, but he had to know.

“Come on, doesn’t it strike anyone else as a little co-dependent?”

“Tony.” And oh, in addition to Tony Stark’s return, Steve Rogers had showed up at Matt’s apartment now, too. Wonderful. Foggy wondered how they possibly had the time to be here or what the other three Defenders were doing since they were actually Matt’s friends.

“No, it doesn’t. And when you think about it, it makes total sense.” Karen’s voice, hot and defensive and Foggy didn’t need Matt’s super hearing to catch the protectiveness in her tone. He could picture the fierce, determined expression on her face as she defended them from whatever Stark was talking about, and something in his chest warmed.

“They were just kidnapped and trapped in a warehouse for hours,” Karen continued. “And their relationship is the best, longest one either has ever had. They’re family and they need each other.”

“And Rhodey’s mine,” Stark replied. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to climb into bed with him.” He didn’t really sound judgmental, just like he was working out a formula by breaking it down.

Despite his better judgment, Foggy fished his phone out of his jacket pocket to text Karen. She would keep it on the down low.

_What’s going on out there?_ He typed it as he returned to the bed. He wasn’t ready to sleep again, but he felt itchy being too far away. Matt made a quiet, incoherent noise in his “sleep” and shifted a little closer.

**Tony wanted to check up on you two and he brought Steve to help watch you guys (?) because he didn’t know I’ve been here. The others had to leave because they have lives outside of all this.**

_Cool cool and you’re talking about mine and Matt’s relationship why?_

**I won’t let them into the room, Tony asked if there’s more than one bed. Here we are.**

Karen was a treasure and Foggy made a mental note to take her out sometime after this. Hell, Matt needed it, too. They all did.

_What would we do without you defending our honor?_

Karen sent a kissy heart emoji in reply.

“Nelson, how’s it all holding up?” Stark’s voice drifted through the door and Foggy sighed as he dragged himself out of bed again, glancing at Matt to make sure he was still good.

“He’s still asleep. Has your lab decoded the drug?” Foggy asked, opening the door only far enough so he was able to stand in the space. He felt like he’d aged seven years and sleep was calling him back. That and the memory of Matt’s warmth.

Karen was standing in the kitchen and she flashed Foggy a smile and a wave that he returned. Steve Rogers was on the couch in a T-shirt and jeans, trying to make himself look normal. He greeted Foggy with a nod. Stark was pacing around in the open space by the windows.

“It’s a drug that targets the memory centers of the brain and triggers some of the deepest, most ingrained memories a person has. Those tend to be the ones people repress.” Foggy didn’t flinch, but he was close. Jesus Christ, Matt.

“Jones grabbed that headset, too. It’s some fancy tech, but I should have it figured out by the end of the day. We’re not sure exactly what the side effect that causes the unconsciousness is, but we’re working on that.”

“Don’t bother, I know,” Foggy sighed, tired and heavy. Stark looked incredibly interested. “He just relived years of trauma in a handful of hours. Claire said that kind of stress tends to shut people down for a while. She said he’ll be okay.” Foggy wouldn’t let himself think about the potential longer-lasting effects.

Stark stopped pacing and actually looked surprised. “Yeah that’d do it.”

“This trauma especially. If you need a lead on the headset, it projects thoughts in stunning detail,” Foggy continued. “The audio is really excellent, but I can’t speak to the visuals.” Bringing that up had the exhaustion crashing over his head again and he felt jittery.

Karen’s face had gone slack and she looked much more worried than she had earlier. “Foggy?”

“Yeah we got that,” Stark said slowly, some realization dawning on his face. On the couch, Rogers had stilled and his face had gone blank. All of a sudden, he whipped his phone out and started typing on it.

“Foggy, are you okay?” Karen was hovering in front of him now, and she’d put a hand on his shoulder. Her voice was more urgent this time and she glanced over his shoulder into Matt’s bedroom before her eyes locked on his.  

He thought again of Matt’s shaky breath as they all listened to his repressed memories in that God-awful warehouse. He turned to look at Matt now, stretched out, lost deep in his subconscious, and tense again. His chest heaved in an uneven rhythm, like he was trying to catch his breath, but kept getting interrupted before he could manage it.

Foggy shook his head and waved away Karen’s concern, now heightened and directed at both of them.

“I’ve definitely had better days, but I’ll live through it.” He looked at Stark and Rogers. “We’re both fine. If you can figure out exactly how that drug works, and keep it off of the streets and away from literally everyone, maybe make an antidote, that would be a hell of a lot more helpful for all of us.”

Foggy appreciated Matt’s new acquaintances giving a shit, but Matt didn’t need them right now. The city did.

“We’ll take care of it,” Rogers promised, and the glint in his eye and set of his jaw was all Captain America. He was already on his feet, and he turned his attention to Stark.

“Come on, your lab has to have figured out something else by now.”

Stark gave Foggy one last up-and-down look — and Foggy didn’t even want to imagine what he was being appraised for — before he turned toward Rogers and they headed up the stairs to the roof. Because superheroes.

Foggy sighed and leaned more heavily into the doorframe.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Karen asked, her arms were crossed now, but she looked patient under her sharper worry.

“Not really, but I’ll get over it. There’s more work to do.” He straightened up. “I just thought of a new connection for the case we’re building, in fact. I might be wrong, but we could be looking at real money.”

“Oh, Foggy.” Karen tutted, but her eyes were soft. “You can work when you’re both back at the office.” She leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “I’ll stay on the couch for a little while longer, I have some writing to do.”

And then she pushed him gently back into the bedroom before she closed the door on him.

He blinked at it for a second, and then returned gratefully to the bed and tucked his shoulder into Matt’s chest. Matt curled a little around him in response.

 

Foggy didn’t quite go to sleep. Instead, he kept working at the connections between the group who kidnapped them and the case they’d already been making. And then Luke texted an update on finding the people and learning more about the drug from their lab.

At best, he was dozing.

The afternoon had faded into late evening by the time Matt finally came to, and Foggy was wide awake the moment he noticed, snapping up so he was sitting.  

It didn’t happen the way he’d imagined it.

Instead of flying into consciousness, Matt’s entire body tensed and his hands fisted the sheets, gripping hard like he was bracing himself. So hard his muscles trembled. Abruptly, the tension rushed out of him and he sank back into the mattress as he blinked his eyes open to stare blankly in Foggy’s direction.

The expression on his face was soft and loose and his eyes darted back and forth as the world came back to him and he took it all in. His eyebrows twitched closer together, and Foggy could tell he’d captured Matt’s attention.

“Foggy?” His voice was ragged, so much so it was barely audible.

“Yeah buddy, I’m right here,” he said softly, reaching a hand toward his friend. Why? He didn’t know.

But then Matt lifted his and caught Foggy’s fingers in a firm grasp, and that was when Foggy realized his heart was hammering and a rush of relief flooded through his body. He tightened his grip on Matt’s hand and nearly fell forward into him.

All of a sudden, nothing mattered more than being close to him.

Matt seemed to feel the same way because he braced his other hand on Foggy’s shoulder.

“Christ Matty,” he gasped, “I’m so glad you’re okay.” Foggy pulled him up so he was sitting, too.

“Foggy,” Matt repeated, and he sounded dazed. “Are you okay?” The hand on Foggy’s shoulder moved down to skim over his body and found every bruise or muscle strain. Matt’s face was tight and intent despite his bed head and bleary eyes.

He seemed out of it, but calm. And he was so achingly present, not trapped anymore by whatever had been haunting him.

“I’ll be fine, nothing that won’t heal,” Foggy replied, tightening the hand holding Matt’s.

“What are we doing here?” Matt asked. The confusion was probably fair. He’d probably assumed he’d be in the Tower if he wasn’t at a hospital.

“I thought having you recover in your own bed would be better,” Foggy replied. “Everything would be familiar when you woke up.” _And you’d feel safe._ “I brought Stark and Claire around to my point of view by arguing that it was legally my decision.” Something was bubbling up inside of him, and he wasn’t sure what it was.

Matt looked dumbfounded for a moment. Then his eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head a little, like he was hearing something familiar, and it was such a _Matt_ gesture. Foggy felt like laughing.

The relief was still crashing over him in waves and he hadn’t realized how worried he’d been. Matt tugged a little, catching Foggy against his chest and holding him close. It was then that Foggy noticed he’d started shaking.

He threw his arms around Matt’s shoulders in return, one of the only places he wasn’t injured. Matt didn’t complain.

“Shhh, Foggy. It’s okay now,” he said softly, running his free hand over Foggy’s hair and shoulder blades. “We’re okay.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Foggy gasped, because keeping it inside seemed like a catastrophic decision. “And I’m sorry you had an audience, and I’m sorry all of that happened to you.” He felt the words leaving him in an uncontrolled rush, but at least it was Matt holding him up.

Matt, who exhaled shakily before he pulled him somehow closer, tucking Foggy into his body so Foggy’s arms slid down from his shoulders and landed near his waist. After a moment, Matt brushed his fingers across Foggy’s face, leaving cold, sticky spots where the tears had been.

Foggy couldn’t think of a better way to finally lose it.

“I know,” Matt said into his hair, and though his voice was soft and scratchy it was rock solid, too. “But I’m glad it was you. That I had you with me. And I’m glad you know now, at least.”

Foggy didn’t know how to respond to that beyond tightening his arms around Matt’s middle and skimming a hand down his back. He wasn’t sure he could do much more than that, anyway. His only real consolation was that he could be here for Matt this time around, and that it seemed to be enough for both of them.

Matt kissed the side of his head and his lips barely moved away from his hair when he whispered, “I love you, Fog. So much.” He shifted his lips to Foggy’s temple and then to his forehead, leaving a trail of kisses in between.

Foggy pressed a kiss to Matt’s shoulder, moved up to the crook of his neck, and tipped his head to kiss his jaw.

“I love you too, Matty.” Foggy’s voice barely came out as much more than a breath, but he knew Matt heard it. He closed his eyes against the rush of feelings that backed it up. How right it felt to finally say it.

Matt’s arms tightened around him and his lips brushed against the skin between his eyebrows when he whispered, “Thank you for staying.”

In response, Foggy pressed another kiss to Matt’s jaw, close to his cheek, and Matt buried his nose in the side of his head. Their hands stayed locked together between them, holding tight, and Foggy brought them up to his chest.

He understood why Matt got so much comfort out of his heartbeat. The feeling of both beating so close together soothed the jagged edges of Foggy’s leftover tension, and he shifted so they were both sitting more comfortably, though never any farther apart.  

Matt was talking about more than today, and Foggy had learned his lesson about leaving.

“Of course. I’ve got you, Matty.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> There's *maybe* a follow-up to this. I have a concept but no plot, so it's up in the air. And it'll be a while until I can figure it out.


End file.
